


Persephone

by Asher_Blackwood



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Day 8 Ending, Denial, Dom/sub, Dressing, F/M, Lifestyle Dom, Post Ending, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Blackwood/pseuds/Asher_Blackwood
Summary: In which you reflect on the past and the present, and your husband dresses you for an afternoon out.





	

  
_He presented you with a contract in the old-fashioned sense, perfect script hand-written on thick parchment. It rolled out beautifully in front of you, gently curling up at the corners.  
_

 

Jumin dressing you is part of your morning routine now. You wake up after he does, but still early, put on the lingerie he gave you, clip your bangs, freshen up, do your face, and then you sit on the end of the bed and wait for him to come in and fuss over your closet for thirty minutes deciding what he wants to see you in that day. It’s relaxing, not having to be in control of the simpler parts of your life, and it’s adorable that he cares so much.

 

_Rule One; The way you look and dress is exclusively for my pleasure. I will choose and purchase your clothes, and your makeup will be done in a style I approve of. You will look your best at all times._

 

“Here.” He’s returned with a white sundress, and you rise to your feet, holding your arms out so he can slip it on you. He takes a long moment to run his hands down your back, pressing the lace into your skin and sliding his fingertips down the back of your legs.

“You smell delightful,” he says, and it sends a shiver up your spine. “But-” He runs his hand back up your nylons, barely brushing your inner thigh. “Take these off, replace them with garters. It’s warm outside.”

“Of course, sir,” you respond, and he stands back up, letting you go into your closet. You remove the stockings and fold them again, putting them back in their drawer, and pulling out two white garters with little ribbon rosettes as their latch, to match the floral motif of the dress. You slip them on and clip them to the belt, smoothing down the skirt and returning to your bedroom, where Jumin is waiting.

“Turn,” he says, and you do so. He comes up behind you and zips up your dress, then runs his hands over your collarbone. “I like this dress on you.” Of course he does, he bought it, and besides, he likes everything on you. But that’s not to say you don’t appreciate the compliment.

However, it is unlike him to care about the weather. “Am I going out with you today?” you ask.

He takes his hands off your shoulders. “Yes.” You have a sneaking suspicion that he’s tugging on his right cuff, as he so frequently does when you draw him into idle conversation. It ruins his shirts, and it’s incredibly cute. “I have an afternoon event at a winery, and you will be my date.”

 

_Rule Two; You will attend to me in every situation. I will request your company for professional and social events, and you will fulfill those duties to the best of your ability._

 

“Will we be flying?” You ask. He hasn’t turned you towards the mirror, which is unfortunate, because you’d like to get an idea for how he feels about this. If he wants to go, you can be bright and social; if he wants to avoid it, your sudden headache is a very convenient reason to leave. You’ll have to gauge this later. He returns his hands to your body and runs them down from your shoulders, passing over your entire front, and you go still, waiting for him to allow you to move.

You hear him shake his head. “No, it’s not far.”

 

_Rule Three; Your body is mine. I will attend to it and it will attend to me whenever I desire, and I will pamper or harm it at my discretion. You will treat it with the utmost respect, and keep it in its best possible condition._

 

He reaches the skirt of your dress and gathers it in his hands, hiking it up and slipping his hands in to caress your inner thighs. You shiver; it’s been a long few weeks, testing your dedication and his patience.

 

_Rule Four; You may not have any sexual experience I am not involved in. Masturbation is strictly forbidden unless it is requested by me, and even then it must be done in only the way I specify._

 

“You’ll be in my room tonight,” he says, and you swallow, then nod.

“Yes sir.” He slides his fingers over your panties, and your breath catches.

He ‘tsk’s. “Be quiet. I should not need to remind you.” You steady your breathing as he presses his fingers up, pushing the panties and tips of his fingerpads just barely inside you, then withdrawing. You want him to fuck you so much that it aches, but you’ll need to wait a few hours longer.

He runs his fingers along your skin just outside your panties, and it’s only the routine of training that keeps your knees under you.

“You’ll need a necklace,” he says, dropping both his hand and your skirt. “And a bracelet. At least one.” He disappears back into your closet, and you clench your fists and take yoga breaths as soon as he’s out of sight.

You know intellectually that it kills him as well, and that he’s into the restraint thing and the tension of both of you holding yourselves back, but god dammit you are dying. He’s trained you for months and you’ve studied well, but deep down inside you are still the girl who wants to be locked in the empty cat cage and you do not handle denial very well.

You also need to calm down before he comes back or he might push it another week. Yoga breaths.

 

_Rule Five; Each transgression against any of these rules or any rules added in the future will be punished in a manner appropriate to the transgression. These punishments may include but are not limited to the infliction of pain, denial of sexual privileges, and various forms of restricted movement._

 

(And to be honest, you complain, but he gets this delicious look on his face when he’s through torturing you, and maybe another week wouldn’t kill you after all.)

 

_If you follow these rules as I have set them, you will never want for any material or emotional comfort, for I will provide for your every want and need. You will never be subjected to any discomfort, except that which I inflict upon you for my own pleasure. By signing this contract, you agree that you are mine, and I will cherish you above all else for as long as you will have me._

_“By which of course,” you said when you looked up, meeting his eyes and his subtle but hopeful expression, “you mean forever.”_

 

He comes back with the promised jewelery, and you hold out your wrists so he can put the bracelets on. These are the new substitute for your ribbons, after they proved impractical as full-time articles of clothing. Shiny, extravagant baubles replacing smooth silk, and carrying just as much implication. He covers you in decadence at every opportunity, but the necklace he gingerly clasps on your neck carries as much weight as a leather collar. He brushes his fingers over the back of your neck when he’s done, and you shiver.

“You seem much calmer,” he says, combing through your hair gently, putting it back in place piece by piece. “I’m impressed.”

You lower your gaze respectfully, even though he’s not in front of you to see it. “Thank you sir.”

“You’ve learned so much.” He walks around and tips your chin up with his fingers, and you can’t help but return his gentle smile. “You’re so beautiful, princess. And very good for me.” He leans a little forward, and kisses your forehead. The nickname and his tenderness make you flush.

 

_He took your hands and untied the satin ribbon, and you held them in position as he handed you a fountain pen. You took a long time to sign the paper, drawing your signature out carefully so it could hope to compare to his beautiful penmanship. When you finished you handed back the pen, and waited for him to tie your wrists together again, but he walked around the table instead, picking you up and rearranging you such that he could lower himself between your legs on the couch. You gasped, and he slipped his hands behind your back, quickly undoing the lacing he overtightened that morning._

_He requested that you wore no bra that day, and your breasts slipped out of the side of the dress when it loosened. He pushed up your skirt and snapped the band of your thong, and chuckled when he found you already wet and waiting._

 

“And only for you,” you reply, and he chuckles a little, because it’s true. You’ve always been the type to push whatever boundaries are set before you, but Jumin has the kind of quiet authority you can respect. He knows exactly what he wants, and that makes your life very uncomplicated, because what he wants is what you want. “May I speak freely?”

It is a question you ask as a formality; he has never denied you. “Of course.” Jumin runs his thumb along your cheekbone.

You lean your head into his touch, and sigh. Having the permission from him feels good, and the rush of endorphins causes the actual thought to flit from your mind. “Actually, I forgot what I wanted to say.”

He laughs, and kisses your cheek. “Very cute, princess.” He releases your face, grazing your wrist with his fingertips before lacing his fingers with yours. “But we have commitments. Let’s go.”

 

_“Forever.” He whispered, and slipped inside you.  
_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the day 8 ending and I will write fics with MC enthusiastically consenting until you do too.
> 
> Hit me up on Twitter @Asher_Blackwood


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